


sleeptalk

by enamuko



Series: Three Houses - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies (Fun AU) [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2020-09-01 01:56:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20250271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enamuko/pseuds/enamuko
Summary: It's something they haven't done since they were kids, and honestly, it's probably kind of weird for them to be doing it now. But hey, Caspar thinks, a sleepover never hurt anyone. Right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am making a terrible mistake by posting this when I've barely started chapter two. May the goddess forgive me.  
Have some fluff that takes place in a generic AU where the school phase doesn't lead into horrific bloodshed.

“C’mon, Linhardt…”

Caspar sighed, crossed his arms, and surveyed the scene in front of him, gears turning in his brain as he tried to figure out his options.

Caspar didn’t go to the library very much, unless he needed to for a school assignment or, as he was right now, when he was looking for Linhardt. Not only was it completely out of the way from everything else (why would they stick it upstairs with the teachers’ offices instead of downstairs with the classrooms and stuff?!), truth be told he just didn’t like the place much… Way too quiet for his liking.

Right now it was even quieter, though, because it was almost curfew; the other students were all back at their rooms or in the commons, and the monks were all at evening prayer, meaning the place was empty except for him standing there scratching his head, and Linhardt…

Well, Linhardt fast asleep with his head on the table, book scattered all around him.

“Get up already, man.” He poked Linhardt hard between the shoulder blades, like he had seen Hubert do to get him to wake up in the middle of a lecture, but instead of Lin sitting bolt upright suddenly awake like when Hubert did it, he just groaned and screwed up his face. When Caspar did it a second time, he unfolded his arm from under his head and flopped it around vaguely in his direction, like he was trying to smack him.

Caspar sighed again, pushing his hand through his hair. Maybe he wasn’t doing it right? Or maybe this was just Linhardt at the end of another one of his binges where he didn’t sleep at all for a few days straight. The number of books scattered around him and the fact that Caspar hadn’t seen him in class all day lent some weight to that theory.

He obviously wasn’t going to get up on his own, which presented a problem. Caspar ran through a couple of possibilities. 

He obviously couldn’t just leave him there; Linhardt could sleep just about everywhere, but that didn’t mean it was good for his back and neck, and if he didn’t get yelled at for being out past curfew he was pretty sure the monks and the old librarians wouldn’t appreciate him drooling all over the books.

That meant Caspar had to get him out of the library and back to his room. Some people might have been tempted to just let Linhardt get scolded and end up sore, but not Caspar. Even if he sort of deserved it for working himself to the point where he couldn’t even drag himself to bed…

“Ugh, you  _ owe _ me for this one, Linhardt…”

It wasn’t like it was  _ hard _ for Caspar to carry Linhardt. Linhardt might have had that height advantage he was always going on about, but he wasn’t a very heavy guy, so once Caspar managed to get him out of his chair and onto his back, carrying him to his room wasn’t  _ that _ difficult. He even lucked out and didn’t run into any of the girls, even though their rooms were all right by Linhardt’s…

It was only when he got him  _ into _ his room that the troubles started happening.

For one, there was the matter of Linhardt’s clothes. There was absolutely  _ no _ way he was going to undress him; that was just way too creepy, even if he knew sleeping in your day clothes was bad for them. He did at least manage to get him out of his jacket, so that wouldn’t get too wrinkled…

The second problem was that Linhardt didn’t want to let go of him.

When he’d picked Linhardt up out of his chair and managed to get him on his back with his legs hooked through his arms, Linhardt had locked his arms around his neck even though he was still fast asleep. Pretty tightly, too! Which Caspar didn’t mind at all, because it meant he didnt really have to worry about him slipping off if he didn’t lean uncomfortably forward.

He got to the room before he realized the  _ problem _ with that, though.

Linhardt didn’t want to let go.

Caspar managed to get his arms untangled from around him for long enough to get him into his bed, and to pull his jacket off of him, but as soon as he turned to lay his jacket on the back of his chair to keep it from getting all messed up, he felt something grab hold of the back of his vest. He half expected Linhardt to actually be  _ awake _ when he turned around, the grip was so strong, but he was still dead to the world… And half hanging off his bed.

“Come  _ on _ , Linhardt…” Caspar whined, rubbing the back of his neck.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t break free. He could have even just taken his vest off, if push came to shove. But it wasn’t Linhardt’s grip that was the problem, really…

It was the fact that he was even clinging to him in the first place.

“You never did play fair,” he muttered, and frowned even though it wasn’t like Linhardt could see  _ or _ hear him. “Well… I guess, just this once… I mean, just like old times, right?”

Caspar laughed to no one but himself and, accepting his defeat gracefully, climbed into bed alongside Linhardt and pulled the covers up around both of them.

It wasn’t fair to say that Linhardt was sleepy. What was probably more fair to say was that Linhardt liked— no,  _ loved _ sleep. Reducing it to a simple habit born out of necessity was simplifying the matter far too much. Rather, it was a hobby that combined some of Linhardt’s favourite things— indulgence, relaxation, and a total lack of responsibility.

Though he had a reputation for being able to sleep just about anywhere, and he considered himself something of a master at the art after 16 years of practice, that didn’t necessarily mean every sleep was going to be a good one. Even a true artisan was bound to have a dud every once in a while…

Falling asleep on a table, as one might expect, was rarely comfortable no matter how accomplished you were at napping. Still, he had found himself so exhausted after two solid days of research that he couldn’t even get out of his chair, let alone all the way to his dorm room, and had accepted his fate fully with the knowledge that he would likely wake up to a rather unpleasant scolding from Professor Hanneman or one of the monks, with a terrible ache in his back and a kink in his neck.

Which was why it shocked him so much that, when he felt the first stirrings of wakefulness, he felt wonderful— not only comfortable and without pain, but more well-rested than he had felt in weeks!

Though the first hints of awakening beckoned him, Linhardt was more than well known for simply ignoring them and continuing his peaceful slumber well into the point of excessiveness— he might have slept the whole morning  _ and _ afternoon way if he wasn’t suddenly brought to full alertness by the feeling of something, some _ one _ , moving under him.

Linhardt’s eyes shot open as a thousand thoughts flicked through his mind at lightning speed. An intruder? What sort of intruder would carry him to bed with them, unless they were some sort of— deviant? Linhardt detested fighting, but for anyone of that nature he would be more than willing to make an exception—

His eyes settled on the black and gold vest and white ruffled shirt of whoever he was pressed into, and his ears were graced with the not-unpleasant rumble of someone snoring, then snuffling and murmuring something almost in his sleep, though it was complete nonsense…

Linhardt turned his head and found his nose tickled by familiar blue hair.

Ah.

That sort of intruder, then.

He had tensed up— understandably, he felt— at the thought of some stranger in his bed, but upon realizing it was simply Caspar, he relaxed. He had no idea how or why he’d ended up in bed with him, but then, it didn’t seem so important when it was Caspar he was talking about…

He might have simply let himself settle back in to fall asleep if Caspar didn’t choose that moment to shift under him, grumble, and say in a sleep-hoarse voice, “Morning, Lin…”

“Good morning, Caspar,” he said, though he yawned in the middle of it. “I don’t suppose you would mind explaining how we ended up in this position?”

It wasn’t like he  _ minded _ , exactly. In fact, he strongly suspected it might have something to do with why his sleep had been so restful. Sleeping next to Caspar was like sleeping beside a tin of hot coals, without the concerns that came with it…

He couldn’t help but feel rather curious, though.

“Well… I found you sleeping in the library, and figured I shouldn’t just leave you there, so I carried you back to your room,” Caspar explained. Linhardt was still mostly in the crook of his neck while he spoke, but rolled over so they could look each other in the eye. Caspar looked rather sheepish. “Then you got kinda, uh, clingy, and I felt bad just leaving you alone, so… I figured we could have a sleepover, like when we were kids! I mean, it was kinda boring compared to those times, since you were just asleep, but… It was kind of nice, too.”

“Hm. It was nice, wasn’t it?” Linhardt suddenly realized why it had seemed so unconcerning, so familiar; it  _ was _ exactly like how he would always remember waking up after one of their sleepovers, and he had lost count of how many of  _ those _ they’d had when they were kids… “Considering how much time you spend building muscle, you make a surprisingly good pillow, Caspar…”

“Yeah, well, don’t get  _ too  _ comfy,” Caspar said, but Linhardt could swear he could see him blushing ever so slightly in the low morning light filtering in through his singular window. “It’s almost time for class.”

“Ngh.” And now Linhardt remembered what he  _ didn’t _ like about sleepovers— Caspar was a much earlier riser than he was. Not that it was hard to be, by personal admission, but he was surprised that Caspar hadn’t even woken up until he had— he was always up with the sun before class to get some training in. Well, it  _ had _ been a long time since they had done something like this… Maybe it had just been too cozy for him to pass up?

Which, of course, Linhardt was more than happy to take advantage of.

“Just five more minutes,” he said, barely coherent through a yawn, as he secured an arm around Caspar and tugged him closer, burying his face into Caspar’s hair.

“C’mon, Linhardt, that’s a lie and we both know it!” Caspar whined, and squirmed a bit, but considering he could have probably lifted Linhardt right out of bed without much effort it seemed like a token show of resistance more than anything. Then, with a sigh, “Edelgard’s gonna be  _ so _ mad at both of us…”

Linhardt just let out a half-sigh, half-breath that made it sound like he was already asleep (and in truth, he was well on the way there) and took comfort in the way that, despite his grumbling, Caspar slid an arm around his shoulders to match the one Linhardt had around his waist.

“I  _ told you so _ .”

It wasn’t often that Caspar got to say those words to Linhardt instead of the other way around, so he wanted to relish in it, but it was hard when he was in just as much trouble.

They ended up sleeping right through morning lectures and all the way through lunch. Caspar had never slept that long in his  _ life _ , not even after his most intense training session! And unlike Linhardt, he’d never slept through a class before, so when Edelgard had pulled them aside after class to lecture them, she’d been  _ especially  _ harsh with him…

(Which he thought was  _ completely _ unfair. Linhardt was  _ always _ missing lectures and sleeping through them, but he does it once and Edelgard is disappointed in  _ him _ ? Unfair.)

“I really don’t see why you’re complaining,” Linhardt said, frowning at him. “You didn’t  _ have _ to stay. You could have just gotten up and gone to class.”

“Yeah, but—” Caspar grumbled, cutting himself off mid-sentence. Linhardt had a point. He could have probably even convinced Linhardt to get up, too, if he’d made a little more of an effort. Instead he’d just complained once and given in. When they were kids, he’d  _ never  _ done that.

Then again, his father’s lectures about sleeping in were a lot scarier than Edelgard’s, and usually came with an extra hour or two of his super special, super intense training…

He sighed and shook his head. No excuses. “Yeah, you’re right. Guess I just didn’t wanna bother you when you looked so comfy.”

“How thoughtful of you,” Linhardt said, but with his flat tone, Caspar had a hard time telling whether he was being sincere or sarcastic. “You seemed rather cozy yourself.”

“Yeah, it was… it was nice.” He felt embarrassed admitting that. It was weird, right? They were adults, practically, and cuddling up to his best friend had been cute when they were kids, but at their age… Well, it  _ should _ have been weird, right?

What was embarrassing was that it  _ didn’t _ feel weird, which made him feel weird about the fact that he didn’t think it was weird, in some kind of endless loop. He wasn’t lying when he said it was nice. He’d slept better than he had in ages, and just the feeling of having someone curled up next to him with an arm around him…

“Why did we ever stop having those sleepovers, anyway?” he asked, changing the subject so he didn’t have to think about it anymore.

“I suspect our fathers had something to do with it,” Linhardt answered, leaning his face into his hand like he was thinking very hard about the question. “Given that they were never fond of each other, and never approved of our friendship, I suppose it was only a matter of time before they decided the pretense of civility was too much to bother with, even for our sakes.”

“Yeah…” Caspar sighed. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before, or thought about just as much. His dad and Linhardt’s had never gotten along; it was a clash of personalities, as well as politics. His dad, the current Count Bergliez, was a man of action. He was a smart guy, of course— you couldn’t lead the entire army of the Adrestian Empire without being smart— but he didn’t like sitting around talking things out any more than he needed to.

Linhardt’s dad, Count Hevring, was just the opposite. Well, except for the smart part. Caspar assumed he was plenty smart, just like his son. You had to be to run the finances and other details of basically an entire country. But he was slow to make important decisions, weighing every pro and con and possible outcome, and liked to make long, careful plans before committing to anything.

_ “No one has ever won a war through hemming and hawing,”  _ Caspar remembered his father saying once.

_ “And no one has ever prevented one by rushing into everything like a maddened bull,”  _ Count Hevring had replied.

Caspar didn’t remember sticking around long after that.

“Really, the two of them are like oil and water,” Linhardt continued, either oblivious to the fact that Caspar was busy getting lost in thought or not caring. “If they didn’t  _ have _ to see each other during conferences, I think they would go out of their way to make sure they never saw each other again…”

“Yeah… Really makes you wonder how we ended up such good friends, huh?”

It was something Caspar thought about a lot, actually. He liked to think he was a lot less scary than his dad, but they were definitely more  _ similar _ than they were  _ different _ . Linhardt was the same with his father… So what was different for them? Was it an age thing? Or maybe just a politics thing?

If it  _ was _ about politics, Caspar was  _ glad _ he wasn’t going to inherit his father’s title. He and Linhardt tended to butt heads often, usually over stupid stuff, but they were never serious fights and never lasted very long. He couldn’t imagine having some kind of life long grudge against him like their fathers did…

“Hey.” He shook his head, banishing the thoughts from his mind. There wasn’t any point worrying about something he couldn’t change, right? “This might sound crazy, but… What if we had another sleepover? A  _ real _ one, like when we were kids.”

“Hm? Weren’t you just complaining about getting in trouble for sleeping in because of me? I fail to see how doing it  _ again _ would help…”

“Y-yeah, well…” Caspar frowned and made a frustrated noise, shaking his head. “Aw, nevermind. Just forget I said anything. It was a stupid idea.”

He had no idea why he suddenly suggested that. It was just a few minutes ago that he’d been thinking about how weird it was to still do that sort of thing at their age. But thinking about their dads, and the good times they’d had as kids, it just made him… Nostalgic.

“Wait, I didn’t say that.”

His head snapped up at that.

“Uh—”

“It sounds like it might be fun,” Linhardt continued. Again, Caspar might have wondered whether he was being genuine or sarcastic, except this time he was smiling…? Which he was pretty sure was a good sign! “I mean, it  _ is _ a social activity where one of the main points is  _ sleeping _ , so…”

“Haha, yeah, it’s right up your alley!” Caspar couldn’t help but give a triumphant fist pump, feeling a sudden rush of excitement. Maybe he’d missed their dumb little childhood stuff more than he thought… “Alright! How about tonight— no, wait, tomorrow night!”

He wanted it to be a  _ proper _ sleepover, after all… Which meant that he had to get some stuff in order, if he wanted it to be just like when they were kids…

“Hm… I’m not going to regret this, am I?” Linhardt asked, frowning at him. “This seems like a lot of enthusiasm for something that should be a simple event…”

“Nah, it’ll be great! Don’t worry!”

Linhardt said something else, but Caspar had already turned and run off, determined to fulfill the mission he had given himself!

Linhardt watched Caspar run off— literally, he was practically sprinting— and sighed to himself. Shaking his head. What had he just gotten himself into…?

Still, even though he knew it was probably the  _ logical _ response to be worried— Caspar certainly never did anything halfway, which meant both his successes and his failures were equally spectacular— he just couldn’t bring himself to be. He really had slept even  _ better _ that night than he usually did, and honestly…

Well, maybe he had missed some of their childish rituals.

Just a little bit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caspar and Linhardt have their proper sleepover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better late than never?
> 
> I have nothing else to say but I'm sorry ajdawhdkwaj

The next day came and went, and their sleepover plans completely slipped Linhardt’s mind.

That day he actually went to class, a rarity that had nonetheless become more common since Professor Byleth had taken over (in part because he didn’t really seem to care if Linhardt napped while he was talking). He took his usual seat in the back of the classroom, but Caspar sat at the front, taking furious notes— or at least scribbling _something _furiously in a notebook. Linhardt dozed lazily at his desk, with no one else sitting with him, and woke up only long enough to answer the question the professor aimed at him in hopes of tripping him up since he was asleep.

All in all, a good day of class.

After class he ate dinner, then retreated to the library to gather research materials and catch another quick nap. He made it back to his dorm room just before curfew, and was wondering whether he should continue his research or turn in early, when—

“Linhardt! Open up!”

The loud knocking at his door almost startled him, and certainly confused him— and it took him a long moment to remember the plans he and Caspar had for the night. Thankfully they hadn’t involved anything more than him being in his room at the right time…

“The door’s open, Caspar,” he said with an exasperated sigh as he walked over to open the door for him regardless. “You can come in…”

When he saw Caspar standing in his doorway and grinning brightly at him, he understood why he hadn’t just let himself in— his arms were full with a massive box of… Well, Linhardt had no idea, really. But whatever it was, there was a lot of it, and even if Caspar wasn’t struggling with the weight, the box looked rather unwieldy.

“What _is_ all of that?” he asked, finishing the question he had started in his head, but Caspar didn’t seem to have any trouble picking up on his line of thought.

“Sleepover supplies! You know, like when we were kids! I figured if we were gonna do this again, we have to do it _right_.”

Caspar didn’t wait for any further invitation; he stepped into Linhardt’s room and went straight over to his desk to set down the box, with Linhardt moving books out of the way before he could shove them aside or crinkle the pages by setting it on top…

“What kind of sleepover supplies could we possibly need? The concept seems to speak for itself.” Still, Linhardt watched, interested in spite of himself, as Caspar started unloading things.

“You don’t _need_ stuff for a sleepover— it’s just way more fun!” Caspar insisted, and Linhardt sighed and shook his head, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. When Caspar got an idea in his head, that was the end of that…

Most of the things he unloaded were food related— Linhardt had to wonder when he’d even had the time to procure it all, especially since it had been only two days, and most of it didn’t exactly seem like the sort of fare he would have been able to get around the dining hall…

“Did you go into town to get all of this?” he asked, incredulous, but still intrigued. He picked up a box of candies, untying the little ribbon that had been wrapped around it and helping himself to one of the cream-filled chocolates.

“Yeah! Like I said, if we’re gonna do a sleepover, we have to do it _right_!” Caspar insisted. “Remember when we were little and we’d sneak into the kitchen and gorge ourselves on sweets until we got sick?”

“No; I remember _you_ dragging me along on _your_ adventure to sneak into the kitchen, when all _I_ wanted to do was go to sleep. And then you keeping me up half the night groaning about how sick to your stomach you were.”

“Aww, c’mon, Linnie. You ate it, too.”

“Only to keep you from stuffing yourself even more. And then I got in just as much trouble as you the next morning. Completely unfair.”

During the course of their familiar banter, Linhardt retreated to his bed still holding the chocolates, helping himself to another one as he sat down to watch Caspar unpack the seemingly never ending box of sleepover supplies.

“Don’t tell me you plan on having us go through all of this in one night,” he said, eyes widening as Caspar kept piling package after package on his desk— mostly snacks, but he spied a few board games as well, including a cheap chess set that intrigued him because Caspar was _notoriously_ terrible at it. 

(Not that Linhardt was that much better, mind— no matter how many games his father had attempted to force him into playing for the sake of studying or, worse, _bonding_, he had never quite gotten the hang of it. Tactics simply weren’t his strong suit, it seemed, even in tiny wooden form…)

“Okay, maybe I got… A little carried away,” Caspar admitted sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck, surveying his stash laid out in front of him. As quickly as that came on it disappeared and Caspar was back to smiling, however. “No worries, though! We can just save the rest for our next sleepover!”

Linhardt thought it was rather bold to be talking about a _next_ sleepover when they hadn’t really even started _this_ one, but bold was really the only setting Caspar had, so he supposed that was to be expected. Instead he simply yawned, stretching his arms over his head.

“Well,” he said mid-yawn. “If this is a sleepover, then I’ll be preparing for the main event.”

“C’mon, Lin! You can’t go to sleep yet! We haven’t even started!”

“I think you’ve forgotten what all of our childhood sleepovers were like.”

“And I think _you’ve_ forgotten that I never let you get to sleep anyway.”

Well— he had a point there. He was _really_ starting to regret agreeing to this…

“Fine,” he said with a deep, loud sigh, just to let Caspar know for _sure_ how put out he was. “But at least let me get comfortable.”

He stood up, abandoning his chocolate prize on the bed, and started to strip out of his uniform. Caspar must have been too preoccupied with organizing their sleepover supplies into what must have been some kind of system but which Linhardt thought looked like just a slightly differently arranged mess, because he only glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, and then did a rapid doubletake.

“L-Linhardt? What are you _doing_?” he asked, his voice shooting up a sudden octave as he looked promptly away, then kept glancing back as though he thought Linhardt couldn’t see him blatantly turning his head as his trousers quickly followed his shirt.

“I’m changing,” he said simply and flatly, because the answer was obvious and he wasn’t sure why Caspar was asking him— or suddenly seemed so _scandalized_. “What, you weren’t planning on sleeping here in your _uniform_, were you?”

“No, I just— give me some warning next time!” he said, turning fully away to fuss with a pile of candies that looked, to Linhardt, like a stomach ache waiting to happen.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked as he stripped out of his smalls, tossing them aside more casually than he did his uniform which he laid out at the foot of his bed (not that it would keep the thing from wrinkling, since he fell asleep in it just about wherever he pleased, but no sense in tossing it around haphazardly to make the problem even worse). He quickly pulled his nightdress on over his head and adjusted himself until he was comfortable, turning the bed down so he could crawl into it with his swiped chocolates. “You’ve seen me naked a thousand times before, I don’t know why it’s such a big deal to you _now_.”

“It’s just— weird, okay?” Caspar said, voice strained with what Linhardt recognized as a mix of embarrassment and frustration, and— ah, yes, he could see it if he turned his head just the right way, his ears _still_ turned a dusty pink before the blush reached the rest of his face.

Linhardt _could_ have made the argument that Caspar ran around the battlefield in leather straps and a skirt, more or less, and aside from each other they had both seen their comrades and fellow students— male and female— in various states of undress over the months since their live combat training had started… But that seemed like a lot of effort, like most of the arguments he had with Caspar, and he wasn’t in the mood at the moment.

Besides, it didn’t sound nearly as fun as teasing him about his height, particularly when he was getting the _quiet_ sort of embarrassed rather than the loud and argumentative sort of embarrassed— a rarity for Caspar, intriguing but not enough for him to pry.

“Alright then,” he said, yawning again mid-sentence. “Have it your way. Would you like me to give _you_ some privacy?”

Not that he wanted to get out of his comfortable bed, but… Maybe Caspar was going through some sort of phase? He had gotten a lot more independent since they’d come to the Academy, so Linhardt wasn’t quite as confident about knowing everything going through his mind…

“Just— don’t look over here, okay?”

Well, that was an easy enough request; Linhardt crawled under the covers and squirmed about to make himself comfortable while Caspar changed. When he was done— Linhardt hadn’t looked, like Caspar had asked, but it was easy enough to tell when the black and gold and blue blur in the corner of his eye became a white and blue blur— he practically jumped into bed alongside Linhardt, making the mattress bounce.

“If you break my bed, I won’t hesitate to turn you over to Seteth,” he said, deadpan. Caspar grinned at him.

“No you wouldn’t,” he said, and Linhardt shook his head— fondly— and popped another chocolate in his mouth before offering one to Caspar. “I’m surprised, Linnie. I thought you’d be more excited about this.”

“About letting you into my room so you can keep me up all night?”

“Aww, c’mon, don’t be like that! We both know you’ll just sleep through class tomorrow anyway.” Well, Linhardt couldn’t argue with that… “And it’s been forever since we had a chance to do something like this. I just… Figured you missed it as much as I did.”

“Caspar, don’t look at me like that.”

Ugh. The look on Caspar’s face— a pout if Linhardt had ever seen one— was enough to make him feel like he’d kicked a puppy or something.

He sighed. “Of course I missed spending time with you, Caspar. But at least we get to see each other every day now.”

There was a time when that had been true for at least a part of the year. Every time their fathers were both called to Enbarr to deal with ministry business— which mostly involved the two of them arguing a lot, and sometimes arguing with Bernadetta’s father as well— they had been nigh inseparable. Sleepovers were common, if only because their mothers quickly tired of dealing with the tantrum one or the other would throw if they tried to drag them home after the end of their playdate, and it became easier to just tuck them into bed together and (if his mother’s current habits were anything to go by) retreat into the sitting room with a bottle of wine.

All that had stopped as they got older; Linhardt had a few ideas as to why, but he’d never really stopped to think about it too much before. He’d started getting more and more absorbed in his research, and he’d assumed Caspar was the same way with his training.

Now he felt a bit guilty that he hadn’t thought about how Caspar felt about the whole thing. Between the two of them, Caspar had always been the clingier one— although Linhardt wouldn’t say he was _that_ much better, he just needed more alone time in general.

Oh well. They were together all the time now, and it wasn’t like Caspar didn’t already _know_ he wasn’t the sort of person who talked about that sort of thing.

“Yeah! And it’s been great,” Caspar said, shoving two chocolates in his mouth at once while he flopped on the bed.

“If you don’t sit up while you eat, you’re going to choke. And don’t stuff your mouth like that.”

Caspar gave him a Look, and Linhardt gave him a Look back, one that he hoped said ‘you might be able to get away with eating like a pig in the dining hall, but I’ll kick you out of my room if you try that here’.

Regardless of whether his message got through, Caspar at least sat up.

“I just miss hanging out with you like we used to,” Caspar admitted, or at least Linhardt was pretty sure that was what he was saying; it was hard to be certain when he was talking through a mouthful of chocolate and cream that was making his cheeks bulge like a chipmunk.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Caspar…”

“C’mon, Lin, I’m trying to have a moment here!” Caspar gave him another pout that made Linhardt shake his head in resignation. “What I’m trying to say is… Well, I guess it’s just been weird, the past few years, not being able to do everything we used to do when we were kids. I know we’re getting too old for some of that stuff, but… After we graduate, we’re gonna have to figure out what we’re doing with the rest of our lives and everything’s gonna get super complicated. So we should enjoy this time to hang out as much as we can, before we have to worry about any of that stuff?”

While he was talking, Caspar had started fiddling with the sheets, and then with his nightgown— a nervous habit Linhardt recognized easily enough— and Linhardt reached over to put his hand on top of Caspar’s. When Caspar looked over to him, he gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

“I suppose you’re right about that,” he said. “Now, I noticed you had a few games in that sleepover package of yours… If you’re going to keep me from my beauty rest, the least you can do is have a match with me.”

Caspar was staring at his hand, not replying, until Linhardt pinched him. He yelped and pulled his hand back.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“You were spacing out and not listening to me,” Linhardt said simply. “A game, Caspar? Unless you’re not feeling up to one. I won’t turn down getting the ‘sleep’ part of this sleepover started…”

“N-no! A game sounds great! Here, let me see what I’ve got…”

As Caspar sprung out of bed to dig through his overflowing box of sleepover supplies, Linhardt leaned his head into his hand, and couldn’t fight back a fond smile.

Perhaps this would turn out to be not so bad after all.

It turned out exactly as bad as Linhardt thought it would be.

Oh, the sleepover itself had been quite nice, even if he’d been utterly exhausted by the time he and Caspar had actually ended up falling asleep.

The snacks Caspar had brought were quite nice, especially for someone who had forgotten to eat all day. They had fumbled their way through a few games of chess before they decided neither of them knew what they were doing and switched to card games, and then when Caspar couldn’t stop squirming and messing up the deck, they had ended up tucked into bed and simply… _Talked._ Not about anything big or important— Caspar had rambled for a bit about all of the training he’d been doing and his upcoming certification, and they’d talked about their classmates, which mostly involved making fun of them.

It was probably the third most enjoyable way Linhardt could think of to spend an evening, just behind ‘actually sleeping’ and ‘diving further into his Crest research’.

Then the next morning had come.

It wasn’t like Linhardt couldn’t function on only a few hours of sleep. There were many occasions when he’d spend an entire night— sometimes two, and on one memorable occasion three— pouring over tomes, taking detailed notes, conducting experiments… Once he got into a groove, he could hardly stop in the middle, lest he lose the momentum!

Unfortunately, Caspar was not quite as used to it— and while Professor Byleth was willing to let him falling asleep in class slide, it seemed he was far less indulgent when it came to Caspar.

“Awwwww, c’mon, Linhardt… Can’t you just let me take a _quick_ look at your notes?”

“Don’t look at me like that, Caspar… It’s your own fault that we’re here in the first place.” He lifted his hand to cover his mouth as he yawned. “Besides… You of all people should know I didn’t take notes. I was busy catching up on sleep, just like you suggested.”

“Aw man…”

Caspar pouted some more, but Linhardt was too busy being half-asleep to pay it might mind this time around, leaning against the table with his head resting in his hand and dozing. Still, whenever Caspar made a noise of frustration, he would crack an eye open and see him frowning at his paper and practically staring holes in it.

Who knew that he hated tactics and formations so much? Well, Linhardt could have hazarded a guess…

Lihardt sighed. “Really, Caspar. Even if you don’t know exactly the right answer, put _something_ down.”

“No way! It’s bad enough that the Professor gave me extra homework, I’m not gonna turn around and make it worse by doing a sloppy job.” Caspar huffed, his pout turning into a true frown. “Why’d he punish _me_ for falling asleep and not _you_?”

“Well, if I heard his lecture correctly, it would be because you’re failing this particular class.”

“Rhetorical question, Linhardt!”

Linhardt shook his head. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Caspar had never been the sort who was good at studying. He excelled at training and was a formidable foe on the battlefield, but Linhardt wasn’t exactly shocked to see him struggling to wrap his head around battalion tactics and authority training.

“Why are you even still here? It’s not like he gave _you_ extra work.”

“I figured I could take a nap while keeping you company. Kill two birds with one stone, as it were.” He yawned again. “I just didn’t expect it to take this long.”

“Haha, very funny.”

Linhardt rolled his eyes and moved from his own seat to the one next to Caspar, nudging him in the side.

“Here, make room.”

“L-lin?” Caspar’s eyes widened to the size of tea saucers. “There’s like— an entire bench here.”

“Mm. But I can’t see your worksheet unless I’m close.”

He took Caspar’s quill pen from him and started looking over what he’d already done.

“Hey, what’s the big deal? What, you think I can’t do this on my own?”

“Really, Caspar? You’re going to make this into a fight?” Linhardt sighed. “It’s not like I’m going to do it _for _you. But if you want to show the Professor your best work, don’t you think it’s better to have someone else look it over and offer suggestions? It’s no different than being tutored.”

“You slept through the same lecture as me!”

“Yes, but the reason Professor Byleth lets me get away with it is because I study _on my own time_, instead of spending all day training.”

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Linhardt didn’t study all that much for class things. Since Byleth was content on letting him focus on magic, he already knew a great deal, which meant he could focus more on his _personal_ studies. But Caspar didn’t need to know that.

“Just let me help you, Caspar.” Without even waiting for an answer he was already marking up Caspar’s page, circling any mistakes he might have made. “Then we can go get some dinner.”

“...Alright, Lin.”

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” He sighed again. Something about Caspar just made him sigh a lot. “If it makes you feel better… I really did have a nice time last night. I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

Caspar instantly perked up at that. “Really?! I mean… You seemed kinda… Annoyed.”

“Well, I wasn’t fond of getting lectured about being ‘a bad influence’ on you,” Linhardt said. “But that could easily be avoided by having our next sleepover on a night when we don’t have classes the next morning… Or, at the very least, by actually _sleeping_ during it.”

Linhardt was too intent on circling and underlining various things on Caspar’s worksheet to notice the way Caspar went from staring at him to grinning at him until he looked over and saw him looking at him like an excitable puppy.

“Heh. I knew you were just being difficult. Does that mean you want to have another sleepover?”

“Well, we have to use up the rest of your sleepover supplies _somehow_, right?” Linhardt couldn’t resist smiling back at him. Looking at Caspar really _was_ like looking at an excitable puppy; you couldn’t help but be happy, and absorb some of that energy, even if it was just a bit.

“...Thanks, Linhardt.”

“Hm? What for? You were the one who made it enjoyable enough to be worth my while. I never would have thought of something like that, but it was… Nice.” Linhardt chuckled. “Besides, don’t thank me quite yet.”

“Huh? What’s that supposed to—” Caspar cut himself off when Linhardt slid the corrected worksheet back to him. “...Oh. _Seriously_, Lin?”

“You were the one who said you wanted to do a good job.”

“I don’t need to do _that_ good a job,” Caspar murmured under his breath as he pulled the paper back towards himself and got to work on the corrections Linhardt had made.

Linhardt shook his head and smiled.


End file.
